A Week With The Skywalkers
Saturday:
Part One: Morning
"Ani!"
Oh, crap. Somehow, she knew what he was up to. Anakin Skywalker slammed the mirrored door closed and dove to the marble-tiled floor of the bathroom. He yanked open the cabinet under the sink… and promptly shoved his head under.
Artoo, who had been delegated to look-out duty, chirped. To Anakin, who had long ago began to understand Artoo, the message was clear. Get off the floor and face her like a man! Stop acting like a chicken wuss.
Anakin, in the process of hiding, halted abruptly, banging his head with a loud thud against the pipes. "Ow! Da-" he stopped mid-curse, azure eyes narrowing dangerously. "What did you just call me?" He demanded.
Oh, you know... wuss, weaking, wimp, coward, loser, pathetic… The droid made every beep and whistle slow and enunciated.
"Anakin!"
Anakin jerked in fear that she would discover what he was up to, and hastily shoved a small package, wrapped in a plastic shopping bag, under the sink. He got to his feet, glaring and rubbing at the side of his head. With the silent promise of retribution, Anakin stepped out of the bathroom, only to find Padme standing before him.
"Anakin?" She asked pleasantly, lifting an eyebrow.
"Um…" he resisted the urge to fidget, "Yes, dear?"
"We need to talk." She stated without any preamble.
Anakin rubbed at his head, "Oh, God…"
The fearless princess nodded and gave the signal to her second-in-command as they tore through the Valley of Death. Shelter loomed up before them, and the two brave warriors wriggled stealthily through the underbrush. With the strap caught in the bushes, there was no choice but to remove her helmet, or risk the chance of being seen by the enemies that surrounded them. It tugged free, revealing her thick brown locks and youthful face.
The commander – her second, her war buddy, her closest confident, her best friend, her brother – stumbled as they reemerged into the valley. His foot was caught around a giant snake, that was slithering around his shoe.
She yelled at him to hurry as he kicked his boot free, leaving it abandoned on the thick summer grass. He caught up to her easily, and they agreed to report to their treetop battle station. She was in the lead as they raced across the rolling flatlands, away from the Dark Lord's great citadel where they had found the Crest of Purity – and the noble palace that resided next to it. She lost her balance, falling into a pit of quicksand. She thrashed, but her companion was quick to toss her a length of silky rope that the noble king and queen had given the knight prince and warrioress princess.
Together, they sprinted across the Cursed Bridge, and scrambled up the ladder to their battle station.
They had a war to fight, after all.
"What do you want to talk about?" Anakin asked, barely managing not to stutter. He clutched his head, "Oh, Force…" he whimpered, "Let me just pretend that she didn't say that to me. Not the four worst words in the whole Basic language…Stars…"
She eyed him oddly, as if he were more than a bit insane. "Well, Ani…" she began.
"All right! I did it!" Anakin promptly burst into tears, burying his head into Padme's shoulder. "I know you said not to, but I did! I bought that God-awful green blazer. I liked it so much more once you said you hated it!"
His dark-haired wife looked perplexed. "Ani…I wanted to talk to you about something else."
"Oh, you mean that time? I was twelve, okay? I didn't know any -"
She cut him off, "Anakin! Have you seen my data pad? The one with all the maps?"
The princess studied her maps – a recent acquisition from the benevolent queen. "We attack here, here and here." She announced to the troops that were assembled before her and her second. "Any questions?" The troops were silent. "Good!" She nodded firmly. "Now…"
Anakin rolled his eyes, "That's it?" He asked, and, with that, walked out of the room and downstairs, slipping out the back door. He walked through the landscaped gardens. He stopped to pick up one of Luke's shoes by the garden hose, then found a gold silk sash to one of Padme's senatorial robes in the sandbox. The sad thing was that he was quite used to finding things like this. He crossed the low stone bridge that passed over the fish pond, where several koi fish, glinting in the mid-morning sunlight, bobbed up and around each other. He climbed easily into the tree house, and resisted the urge to laugh.
There stood Leia, in front of the low plastic table, with the missing data-pad of maps projected before her. Luke stood a few feet away, glaring at the rows of stuffed animals that were arranged on the floor. Both of his five-year-old twins were covered in dirt, there were pine needles in Leia's pigtailed braids, what looked suspiciously like sap on Luke's left cheek, Luke was soaked to the knees and wearing a bike helmet.
Anakin decided that he didn't want to know.
"So…" he muttered instead, grabbing the data pad from the table.
Leia shrugged, "Yeah…"
Luke shuffled over to his sister, "Well…uh…we were…um…"
"Playing." Leia supplied, as sharply as a five-year-old girl could.
Anakin cleared his throat, "Well, carry on…or something…" He was halfway to the ground when he heard Luke sum up his thoughts:
"Well, that was weird."
Anakin shook his head and went inside. He found Threepio fussing anxiously, as Padme hovered nearby, twisting her pearls in a slender hand. I'm not gonna like this. Anakin warned himself, bracing for soul-crushing defeat. Even so, he couldn't resist asking, "What's going on?"
Threepio worked diligently on spreading a starched ivory linen tablecloth over the long mahogany table. Padme looked annoyed, "I can't believe you forgot!"
"Oh," Anakin blushed, "I was just testing you. Happy anniversary, honey!"
She shook her head, "That's next Friday."
"Thanks for reminding me." He scribbled it down on his arm in sharpie. "Uh, kids' birthday?"
"No. That's at the end of the month."
He wrote that down too. "Harvest Festival?"
"Wrong."
"Your birthday?"
"No, but I wouldn't say no a good bottle of whiskey."
"My birthday?"
"Anakin Skywalker, you are a screw up and a failure at life."
"Oh! Don't tell me! It's um… it's gotta be that time of year we all get drunk and decorate the tree and give each other presents."
She blinked, "Do you mean 'Life Day?'"
"Exactly!" He kissed her quickly, checked his pockets for his keys and wallet, then ran out the house, leaving the front door wide open. He nodded in greeting to their next-door neighbor, an elderly gentleman who was sitting at the edge of his property in a checkered lawn chair, a fishing pole in hand. "Hey, Mister Fini!" Anakin called, causing the supreme chancellor of the Republic to snarl at him violently.
"Don't call me that!"
Anakin flashed a genial smile, "Is there anything you want for Life Day?"
"Life Day? Boy! It's not even Souls' Day!"
"Look, Palpy," Anakin rubbed his temple, "I don't make fun of you for fishing in the sewer or spitting chew tobacco at people who walk by or threatening to call the cops on my family or kicking my puppy or insulting my children or plotting against my wife or trying to convert me to the Dark-"
"Get to the point!"
"You don't make fun of how my family celebrates Life Day." Anakin nodded and gave a world-weary salute, before climbing into his speeder and taking off down the quiet suburban street.
Padme sprinted out into the yard, "Ani, you…ugh!" She stamped a foot against the manicured lawn in frustration.
Palpatine offered the woman a gentle, grandfatherly smile. "Your husband just bade me a happy Life Day, senator."
Padme sighed, rolling her eyes, "Yeah. I can't believe he doesn't know that today is Weyzenaski."
"He's not from Naboo; is he?" Palpatine asked lightly, easing himself from his seat. "How could he possibly know? It's only celebrated once every ten years." The old man ambled to his speeder, "If you will excuse me, senator, I must go to Home Depot. I am going to build myself a fence. To keep myself as a far from your family as possible. You understand." Padme, in spite of herself, nodded.
The mall had been surprisingly crowded, Anakin noted, setting the last bag into the storage compartment of his speeder. It was too full to close, so Anakin quickly maneuvered a few bags from the trunk to the small trailer attached to it. He headed home, driving much more slowly and carefully than he usually did – which was still forty miles over the speed limit at any given time. A police officer flashed his lights. A few Jedi mind tricks later, Anakin made it home.
Padme greeted him with, "It's not Life Day."
He rolled his eyes, "Yeah, I kind of figured that when the gift-wrapping hussy kept giving me weird looks. Guess I'll have to return the ponies now, huh?"
"You bought a pony?" Padme's voice rose sharply with incredulity.
"Yeah. It seemed like a good idea at the time. Listen…" he began, attempting to placate her anger before one of them ended up on the couch.
"You bought a pony?" Leia asked, emerging from behind the leather sofa, Anakin's macrobinoculars in hand. Luke hastened to grab them back, fixing them towards the full-length windows that provided a view of the side of Palpatine's house. Or the Dark Lord's citadel, as the twins had taken to calling it.
Anakin grinned, "Actually, I got two." His words caused the girl to beam. Anakin turned to Padme, "See?" He said quietly to his wife, "Made your little girl smile. I bet you can't put a price on that."
"Try three thousand credits," she snapped, going back into the dining room.
"It cost more than that," he protested, trailing after her, "Why are you and Threepio cleaning in here anyway? We never eat in here, except for on holidays."
She looked at him, "It is a holiday," she sighed, "one called Weyzenaski. It's a family thing, celebrated once every ten years. It's a pretty big deal. Basically, you invite your relatives over for dinner, everyone gets all dressed up and you act like you love each other."
"So, wait…you're family's coming?" Anakin froze.
"Of course," she said cheerfully, folding a napkin, "Help me fold."
Anakin began to fold a square linen napkin, folding it into a triangle. "Do I have to be there?" He asked cautiously.
"Anakin, there's a lot of alcohol at these things. And you might get some dirt on me from my sweet great-aunt – you'd love her; she's sweet as a buttercup. Oh, and everyone gives the hosts money."
"Okay, I'm in." Anakin said, then narrowed his eyes in suspicion. "Your family's coming over and you're cooking? Stars, Padme, I know you don't like them, but that's no reason to try to poison them!"
"Anakin," she rubbed her temple, "the food is going to be catered. And, besides, I do too like my relatives."
"Angel…you wrote a book about your relationship with your mom called 'Mother, I Love You But Please Just Die.'"
"It was a bestseller," she reminded him, her voice sweet though strained, "Anyway, I look the liberty of inviting someone for you."
"Not Obi-Wan. You didn't invite Obi-Wan did you? I hate Obi-Wan, you know that."
"You said he was like your father."
"I was drunk."
"Anakin, we have this conversation about once a week. And you never –"
Anakin held up his origami napkin to distract her, "Look! A ducky!"
The attempt didn't work. "Anakin, why do you hate Obi-Wan?"
Anakin drifted into a flashback…
He stormed into the small apartment, slamming the door behind himself.
"Rough day?" Obi-Wan called, unable to keep the note of mirth out of his voice. Anakin found his venerable master in the living room. Obi-Wan was watching some day-time soap opera in a recliner, wearing only his underwear. His cheeks were flushed, and there was no less than three beer cans on the low table next to the couch – not counting the one curled loosely in his hand. The only thing wrong with the scene was that Obi-Wan Kenobi was unlikely to ever have a beer belly.
Anakin groaned at the sight of him, and flopped onto the couch, sprawling across the other end.
"Tostitos?" Obi-Wan offered, "The salsa's pretty good."
"You know you're just going to end up hung over anyway, right?" Anakin offered. "You hold your liquor worse than a Toydarian on speed."
"Nothing that a little hair of the dog can't fix." Obi-Wan replied lightly, lowering the volume as a commercial came on. "I admit, you do know some pretty good hangover remedies. Don't tell me how."
Anakin's eyes performed an 'Oh-God-Three-Sixty.' "Your mother screws a goldfish."
"Charming as ever," The bearded Jedi responded to his thirteen-year-old Padawan. "How ever did I get so lucky as to have such a pleasant apprentice?"
Oh, he was good. If, by 'good' Anakin meant 'extraordinarily talented at scouring salt into a wound.' "Master. You and a short pier."
Obi-Wan glanced at his watch, "Hey," he said, as if noticing for the first time, "you're home early."
Anakin tossed a thick envelope towards Obi-Wan, "This is for you. It's from my teacher." The blonde boy kicked off his shoes and leaned back into the couch, propping his feet up on the edge of the coffee table. His muddy boots, which had left slight imprints on the pristine white carpet, now sent a stack of magazines and books falling to the floor. Anakin didn't say anything more – nothing more needed to be said.
Especially not when the generously-stuffed envelope had "Padawan Anakin Skywalker: Disiplinary Report (9/17/4063)" written in a bold hand across the front.
Obi-Wan heaved a great sigh, and unfolded the paper. He squinted at the words. "Get me my glasses."
Anakin snorted lightly and retrieved a pair of glasses from the top of the television. They were made of hot pink plastic with purple glitter, and had long ago had the lenses punched out. "Here," he muttered sulkily, grabbing the remote from his master's hand. Nothing was on, as it was still very early, so he settled on the news. It was better than Obi-Wan's soap operas.
The Jedi's voice was almost bewildered. "Ani…" Obi-Wan's thick brows lowered in consternation, "You covered a girl's hair in paint."
"Her back, too," Anakin said, distracted by the sight of the carnage on the news.
Obi-Wan looked up, "Oh, yeah, there was an earthquake on Alderaan. And some gas lines broke. It sucks, doesn't it?" He looked back at the paper, "You locked the teacher in the supply cabinet."
"No, I didn't." Anakin mumbled, "It was my idea, but I didn't do it."
"In front of the Coruscantian Board of Education Inquisitor?"
"Oh, so that's who the old hag was?" Anakin returned flippantly, as the images became more devastating.
"Don't be glib," Obi-Wan paused to push up the useless pink-framed spectacles, "Hey, get the mail. And some scissors." He waited for the boy to accomplish the selected tasks, before continuing. "Pitted two Jedi knights against each other in a match to the death… fought a mountain troll in the girls' bathroom… left an oversized ostrich egg wrapped in blankets in a janitors' closet…pilled a cat… sassed Master Windu… aha! Here's one even you can't wriggle out of: you tied a boy to a rolling chair, pushed it into the boiler room, and said that if he trusted the Force enough, someone would find him."
Anakin shrugged, "They heard him yelling. So I guess I was right."
Obi-Wan took the purposeless glasses off, and rubbed his ocean-colored eyes in exasperation. "Why, Anakin? What possessed you to do that? No…no…better yet, what did the boy in the boiler room say?"
"He said that Anakin Skywalker was right, but it was pretty hot in there." Anakin looked back to the holo-projector he was watching, "I feel pretty bad for all those people on Alderaan."
"You should," Obi-Wan answered cuttingly, his nearly inexhaustible patience finally having run out.
"Huh?"
"A city of six thousand Alderaanian people just blew up in a gas-created fire after losing their homes in an earthquake because of you. Do you remember last night? When you wouldn't meditate? That caused the earthquake, Anakin. Six thousand dead because the kriffing Chosen One couldn't sit his ass down and listen to his teacher. Oh, and, for everything you did wrong today…" he got to his feet and crossed the room to where a large bulletin board hung. Tacked to the corkboard, there were at least three dozen pictures of starving and missing children that Obi-Wan had cut out from the little brochures sent to him by random charities. "For everything you did wrong today, these kids died. Say bye to Nathan, Emily, Sally, Jimmy, Link, Blink, Zelda and Bob." For every name, he picked a random picture, and crossed it out with a bold red sharpie.
Anakin stared, mute with horror.
Obi-Wan Kenobi was hard-pressed to keep from laughing.
"So that's why I hate him." Anakin finished, looking triumphant. "And then there was that time when he got into my room while I was at school."
Padme, who was beginning to get ideas for keeping her wayward twins in line, breathlessly asked, "What he'd do?"
"Okay, so…he gave me a dog to teach me responsibility. God, I loved that dog. Then, a few weeks later, I screwed up or something… so, he took the dog into the meditation garden with a blaster and told me that someone had to pay for my insubordination. Then he shot the gun off in the air a few times, then told me the dog was too tough to kill with a blaster, but next time he'd use a lightsaber."
Luke's golden dog – named Old Yeller, through a strange string of coincidences – whimpered and backed away in fear.
Padme was laughing by this point. Anakin glared at her, "It's not funny! I was just a kid, you crazy Wookie!"
The bearded Jedi sneezed as he bent over the open oven, his battle-callused hands protected from the heat by lobster-shaped gloves. He admired his concoction. It had taken several shots to get up the courage to play Iron Chef, but he had whistled the theme to Yan Can Cook all throughout his cooking experience.
Finally, he had ended up with an astounding concoction. It called for, among other things: fifty-three individual marshmallows – the big kind, not the wimpy little dehydrated kind he had found in the cocoa packets; several cups of chocolate syrup, heated in the microwave; a few packets of powdered cocoa that some youngling gave him last Life Day; baked in a gingerbread-flavored pie crust; no less than twelve cherries; all of it topped with ketchup, a hint of relish, something that suspiciously looked like dog hair, mayonnaise and marshmallow fluff… and had been coated liberally in rum, after he took it out of the oven just in case the liquor evaporated.
He had made three – Padme had asked him to bring a dessert, one for the trip, and one for the guys at the Temple. This last one he left in the oven to keep it warm, still humming to himself as he spun the dial, unnoticing the fact that he had twisted it all the way to "broil." Still humming, he walked to the door.
"Leaving you are," rasped a voice from the hallway.
"Don't be jealous," Obi-Wan responded as he shifted the two white boxes that contained his desserts. He straightened his cloak with his free hand…and slung a heavy-looking duffle bag over his shoulder, grunting slightly at the weight. "Just…a little…trip…" He attached a neon yellow Post-It note to the door for Mace, and hid the key under the doormat.
The 'pie' was still in the oven, steadily darkening…
…To be Continued…